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To Nobody.
VVpon a Christmas Euen, som what night Easter, anon after Whit∣sontide, walking in a Coach from London to Lambeth by water, I o∣uertooke a man that met me in the morning before sunne set, the wind being in Ca∣pricorne, the Signe Southwest, with silence I demanded many questions of him, and hee with much pensiuenesse did answere me merrily to the full, with such ample and empty replications, that both our vnderstandings being equally satisfied, we contentiously agreed to finish and prosecute the narration of the vnknowne Knight Sir Gregory Nonsence, so sitting downe vpon our shoulders, resting vneasily on a banke of Sicamores vnder a Tree of odoriferous and contagious Camomile, after three sighs, smilingly vttered in the He∣brew Character, two grones from the Chaldean Dialact, fiue sobs from the Arabian Sinquapace, sixe dumps from Germane Idiome, nine Moodes